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Not a world about our thoughts, our hopes, our fears; rather, a world about the tykes — their joys, their dreams, their poetry. I have not the faintest idea.” On Psychedelics In General “The chief lesson to be learned from the psychedelic experience is the degree to which unexamined cultural values and limitations of language have made us the unwitting prisoners of our own assumptions.” “Through psychedelics we are learning that God is not an idea, God is a lost continent in the human mind.” “Plants are the missing link in the search to understand the human mind and its place in nature.” On Nature “Nature is not our enemy, to be raped and conquered. Shamanism has always known this, and shamanism has always, in its most authentic expressions, taught that the path required allies.

These allies are the hallucinogenic plants and the mysterious teaching entities, luminous and transcendental, that reside in that nearby dimension of ecstatic beauty and understanding that we have denied until it is now nearly too late.” – On Octopi “Nature, in her evolutionary and morphogenetic richness, has offered a compelling model for us to follow in the shamanic task of re-sacralization and self-transformation that lies ahead.

In his works, it’s clear that Mc Kenna was a student of many things besides botany and entheogens.

He was a renaissance man, capable of lecturing on literature, history, Western and Eastern philosophy, linguistics, anthropology, ecology, shamanism, chemistry, biology.

It had hundreds of archived talks given by what seemed to be a community of people dedicated to psychedelics, and to a counter-culture movement of sorts. It was like I’d missed out on a grade level or college degree.

He was, and still is, by way of these lectures and his books, one of the most well known psychonauts in recent history (up there with Timothy Leary and Alexander Shulgin).

And this first miracle is followed by a second: the utter ease and simplicity with which enzyme systems in the brain recognize the DMT molecules at the synapses.” “When intoxicated by DMT, the mind finds itself in a convincingly real, apparently coexisting alien world.

At 25, a friend introduced me to “Surfing Finnegans Wake,” in which a nasally man lectures for three hours, ostensibly off-the-cuff, on the psychedelic, boundary-dissolving experience of reading James Joyce.

I remember thinking his voice sounded extra-terrestrial. Here’s a quote from the lecture, which will hopefully be blurbed on the next jacket cover of , a podcast hosted by a friendly man named Lorenzo.

Or rather we had an experience that vaguely related to making love but was a thing unto itself.

We were both howling and singing in the glossolalia of DMT, rolling over the ground with everything awash in crawling, geometric hallucinations. This kind of fucking occurs at the very limit of what is possible.

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